


Grace

by Renne



Category: Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-15
Updated: 2011-01-15
Packaged: 2017-10-14 18:48:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/152328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Renne/pseuds/Renne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Legolas returns to an empty Lothlórien for the sake of memory one last time before he and Gimli head into the West.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Grace

**Author's Note:**

> Orignally posted 2003.

Legolas knelt, digging his fingers into the soft, dark soil of the forest floor. It was where generations of leaves had fallen and decomposed, decaying into this rich, life-giving loam that fed the soaring mallorn trees that towered above him. Anyone else may have felt themselves rendered insignificant by the tall, straight-trunked trees looming on all sides, but not him. No, not him. The forest was something that had become familiar to him, a place he could almost be tempted to call home – at least, in the silence of his mind.

He sifted the soil through his fingers, dwelling momentarily on the fact that there were very few living things in this section of the forest anymore that were not, in fact, plant-life. He remembered when this forest was truly alive, when Caras Galadhon, the elevated tree-top city of the Lórien Elves, swarmed with his kinfolk.

The wind sighed through the leaves above his head, revealing first their silver underside then glimpses of gold in a beautiful, constantly moving, living tapestry. The breeze teased loose strands of his hair, ghosting it over his cheek and lips like a lover’s fleeting caress.

Legolas sighed. It had been so long since he had felt the touch of a lover. Years, decades, generations in the time of Men.

The time of Men... it grieved him deeply that time was now measured only by the length of the lives of Men. Men were the ones who would inherit Middle-Earth. The Dwarves had retreated once more beneath the surface, rarely to be seen, the hobbits – well, they stayed in their own regions, avoiding the settlements of Men. And what of the Elves...?

There were now but two of his kind that he knew of left on Middle-Earth, the rest of his kin travelling away to the West, the Grey Havens, and across the sea.

And now it was Legolas’ turn to leave.

There was nothing left to bind him to what Middle-Earth had become in the time after the War of the Ring. Estel had finally passed on as those with mortal blood are wont to do, and Arwen had given up her place on the ship even as she had given up her immortality for love of Estel. The Dwarf, Gimli, had elected to travel to the West with him, if only to gaze upon the ethereal Lady who had once ruled here in these very woods and for his company and friendship Legolas was glad.

Gimli waited for Legolas at the place where they had camped in Lothlórien with the rest of the Fellowship after that terrible trip through the black mines of Moria. Gimli had known that the Elf would want to spend some time here alone – alone with his memories of a happier, brighter time in this place, when the breeze didn’t sound melancholic as it wove through the branches, mourning the loss of the shining Elves of Lórien – and for that Legolas was glad. Even as the dwarf knew of him, he knew that the dwarf too needed some time alone amidst memories better remembered and cherished alone.

Legolas drifted amongst the trees, finally ascending up a rope ladder to the talans that still graced the strong trunks high in the canopy, the delicate bridges suspended between each flet looking all the more fragile for their emptiness and lack of use. He knew their safety would be in doubt for anyone else but he – his natural light-footedness and grace would ensure that he would be able to traverse from flet to flet in complete safety and ease.

He suddenly rocked back on his heels as he arrived at a most familiar place to him, and his breath caught in his throat. It must have been unconscious, the way his feet had guided him along familiar paths. The amount of time Legolas had quite happily lost on this very flet, letting the years slip willingly between his fingers like grains of sand... Oh, ai...

Even though nothing remained neither of that life – nor of the Elf who had inhabited it – bar furniture empty of any personal effects, Legolas’ mind provided him with memories that threatened to swamp him with their very existence. Time was idled away, spent in the embrace of his lover as they merely enjoyed each others presence, or had lively debates as interests and opinions clashed, as they play fought like younglings, wrestling amongst the silken bed sheets, then making love, with skin gliding on skin, soft moans and thrilling heat.

Legolas’ hands clenched convulsively into fists as his head fell, tears prickling behind his closed eyelids. ‘I miss you,’ he whispered in an emotion-choked voice to the silence of the forest, ‘like I have never missed before.’ A single tear escaped from behind his eyelid to trickle down his cheek.

He started violently when he felt the light pressure of a hand on his shoulder. He spun around, his hand dropping to the hilt of the dagger at his waist.

Blue eyes widened in shocked disbelief as his gaze met a pair of oh-so *achingly* familiar pale eyes, set beneath brows that arched with good-natured amusement. Legolas gaped at the other Elf in surprise.

The other Elf flicked out his fingers to teasingly caress Legolas’ cheek in a fashion reminiscent of the way the breeze had taunted him earlier. ‘I miss you too,’ Haldir said, his amusement at Legolas’ reaction to his presence tempering at his own remembered loneliness. Without a word, Legolas stepped forward into the other Elf’s welcoming embrace, clinging to him almost desperately. He buried his face against the curve of Haldir’s neck, hungrily inhaling his sweet woodsy scent.

‘Missed you so much – *too* much...’ Legolas mumbled against Haldir’s skin, feeling for a moment as if he would weep. Suddenly he pulled back, staring intently into the other Elf’s eyes. ‘What are you doing here, Haldir?’ he demanded. ‘Didn’t you – I mean, I thought...’ he stammered to a halt. ‘Didn’t you leave for Valinor with – you... you were meant to, but-?’

Haldir hushed Legolas with a sweet smile and a finger to his lips. ‘Shh, let us not talk of that,’ he said, before replacing his finger with his lips. Legolas moaned softly, his lips tingling. The tingling sensation spread down his neck and chest, through his arms and down his legs til his whole body felt alive to the touch of Haldir’s lips on his.

Even as he had initiated it, Haldir gently broke the kiss, twining his fingers through the other Elf’s long, silken hair. He rubbed it lightly between his fingertips, his smile deepening as he remembered lying naked with the other Elf on his bed, idly untangling and straightening the strands mussed from their love-making.

With a shuddering sigh, Legolas leant in against Haldir’s warm, firm body, tightening his embrace to hold the other Elf closer. Haldir dropped his hand from where it twined in Legolas’ hair, to worm between the folds of the Mirkwood Elf’s tunic, searching out bare skin. His eyelids fluttered and he let out a small purring noise of pleasure himself as his fingers came in contact with flesh. Still as smooth as he remembered. And just as enchanting to touch as to taste...

For a moment he dipped back into the past as a memory surfaced. It had been not long after the first time Legolas had ever come to the Golden Wood, and he had been as captivated by the young Elf as he was now. In fact, the first time he had seen the Mirkwood prince he had stopped in his tracks, flushing and stammering in a fashion unbecoming for a Marchwarden of Lothlórien. His embarrassment at his reaction had deepened when the Lady Galadriel had taken him aside and spoke her gentle warning. It had been hard to believe then that he would end up as tightly bound to the Prince as the Lady had assured him he would if he was to pursue that path, but now he had no doubt.

And every word she had spoken was true – from those early halcyon days where it seemed they would have forever, to the long and painful times when Legolas was ordered to return to the court of his father... every separation hurt worse than the last. And then this final separation... it had been common knowledge that the then eight remaining members of the Fellowship who had passed through Caras Galadhon were most likely going to their deaths. That knowledge had tainted their time together with a deep dread that it could be their last, and when Legolas departed with the Fellowship Haldir existed in a twilight state of fear and despair.

Then the unbelievable happened. The hobbit succeeded. The Ring was destroyed.

And Legolas still lived.

Proof of that existed in his arms right now. He was as intoxicating now as he had been when he had gleefully succumbed to Haldir’s initial clumsy seduction attempt.

‘It has been quite some time,’ Legolas blurted suddenly, ‘since I have been touched so by another. Since we last met here, it has been that long.’ He trembled delicately under Haldir’s hand as the Lórien Elf danced his fingers over hot skin, no longer that gauche seducer but a lover skilled at eliciting response.

Haldir raised his free hand and traced the curve of Legolas’ jaw. ‘So long to be without pleasure, love,’ he murmured.

‘I could not bring myself to love another, thought it was offered to me,’ Legolas dropped his eyes, ‘it may seem overly romantic, forgive me Haldir, but it is the truth.’

Haldir hissed an indrawn breath at that admission. He withdrew his hand from the folds of fabric, and cupped both Legolas’ cheeks in his palms, tilting the other Elf’s face to his. Legolas reluctantly raised his eyes, as if uncertain of what he would see in the other Elf’s face. They had never qualified the relationship that existed between them, though both knew it went far beyond the bounds of physical pleasure. For a moment Legolas had feared that his admission may have disturbed the Elf – or even elicited scorn for perceived weakness. It was an irrational fear, but one he harboured nonetheless.

‘Oh, Legolas,’ Haldir seemed delighted by the admission, ‘you truly are delightful!’ Again he claimed Legolas’ mouth, this time sliding his hands down to loosen the other Elf’s clothing with the intent to divest him of every shred of fabric he wore.

Relief buckled his knees and Legolas clung to Haldir, his own hands alternating between clinging to hold himself upright, and ridding Haldir of the obstructing tunic that prevented him from touching skin. Legolas felt the edge of Haldir’s bed press against his calves and he tugged the Lórien Elf down onto the bed with him. Haldir laughed breathlessly, falling over Legolas, on his hands and knees.

The bed was as soft as he remembered, and the bed sheets as silken. With a stab of confusion Legolas knew that this was not the room as it had been when he entered it – there had been nothing of the bed but a wooden base, no curtains fluttering at the windows, and certainly no sound of the fountains and water features of Caras Galadhon mingling with sweet voices raised in song. But now... it was as if his memories had come alive. He focused on the adored face above his, abruptly uncaring at how his surroundings had altered.

Legolas blew on the lock of Haldir’s hair that had fallen in his face, before reaching up to grasp that same hair and tug Haldir’s mouth to his. He wriggled, shifting them around so that it was he who straddled Haldir’s hips, breaking the kiss to trail his tongue down the line of the Lórien Elf’s neck. He tasted the skin of Haldir’s chest as he bared it, pushing folds of clothing out of the way of his lips. When Legolas nipped teasingly at Haldir’s nipple, the other Elf flinched, making a wordless noise of appreciation.

The time for speaking and coherency was gone. While neither had ever forgotten the feel or taste of the other, they both still spent what seemed like hours relearning every nuance of the other in a joyous experience of rediscovery. Hands were imprinted with the heat of passion-flamed flesh, lips swollen from ardent kisses, and ears filled with the sounds of pleasure, all underpinned sweetly by the music of Lórien.

Legolas wrapped his legs tightly around Haldir’s waist, his head thrown back, and a dewy sheen of sweat on his brow. Over him, thrusting into the burning heat of his body, Haldir panted, a slave the Mirkwood prince’s ardour. He scraped the damp hair from Legolas’ neck and pressed his lips against the salty skin. Haldir whimpered as he felt his pleasure soar, aching for release, but knowing as he did that if he held on for his lover it would be all the more intense.

‘Legolas, I *need*-’

As if the words were the catalyst, the sound of his name on his lover’s lips spoken so pleadingly, Legolas cried out, arching under Haldir as he peaked, spilling his seed between their bodies wetly. It was all the impetus Haldir needed, as he too orgasmed, clutching at the tangled, sweaty bed sheets beneath his hands as his body shuddered convulsively.

Chests heaving in sync, they remained for a moment locked together intimately as they were, before Haldir reluctantly shifted his weight off the other Elf. He slumped onto the feather-soft mattress, smiling at Legolas, who returned his smile with a look of sated, smug satisfaction. Legolas carefully wiped himself and then Haldir clean with the corner of the bed sheet, before snuggling in against the still heated body of his lover, still pervaded with that consuming sense of satisfaction.

Legolas lazily traced circles on Haldir’s bare chest. ‘I really have missed you,’ he said. A familiar post-coital lassitude settled easily over him like a blanket. ‘I am sorry I never got the chance to see you again after the War ended. It hurt to spend so much time apart from you...’ Legolas spoke the last like it was a sudden revelation.

‘I understand,’ was all the Lórien Elf said.

Feeling his eyelids sag as sleep beckoned him, Legolas stared up at the airy ceiling, the breeze that was coming in through the archway that served as a window stirring the curtains. He squinted at them, wondering why they looked different to how they had looked only moments before.

‘Haldir?’ Legolas slurred sleepily.

‘Mmm?’ Haldir idly stroked Legolas’ still-damp hair. He had thought the other Elf already napping, as he was wont to do after love-making.

‘Why are the curtains thinner than I remember?’ Legolas tensed and suddenly felt alarmed as he heard the sound of youngsters laughing nearby. It was the sort of laughter that could only be made by children who were up to some kind of mischief. ‘You don’t think they-‘

‘There is nothing to worry yourself with, love. Nothing that we may do here is visible from any other talan.’

‘How can you be sure?’

Haldir laughed. ‘Because I checked! Not long after our first time together Rúmil took to taunting me that he knew what we were up to. I believed him... up until I took a moment to attempt to verify his claims. Even had I no curtains we would still be out of sight of the most prying eyes.’ He pressed his lips against Legolas’ temple.

The prince made a purring noise in his throat, settling against Haldir again. ‘It reminds me of a time my father sent me to Imladris when Estel was only a child, no more than the equivalent of four or five in the years of Men.’ Legolas yawned, once more feeling as if sleep was gently tugging him away from awareness. ‘Glorfindel was romancing a maiden... in his quarters, and Estel... caught... peering through thin curtains...’ He blinked drowsily. ‘...went and asked Lord Elrond... what doing...’ It was almost impossible for him to keep his eyes open. He sighed. ‘...said...’

Silence.

‘Legolas?’ Haldir said softly. He was answered by a soft snore. He lightly tapped the other Elf on the shoulder, but there was no response but a garbled murmur and him snuggling in closer.

Haldir sighed, knowing that it was time for him to depart. He carefully extracted himself from Legolas’ embrace, gathering up his clothing and dressing. When he turned back to the bed everything was once more as it had been when Haldir had packed and left with his kin. Bare and empty of the soul that had inhabited it through the millennia.

Haldir pulled out a scrap of parchment from where he had stashed it in his tunic, smoothing it flat. He reread the words, suddenly understanding why Galadriel had suggested for him to include what she had. He picked up Legolas’ dagger from where it lay on the bare boards, using it to pin the letter in plain sight where Legolas could not miss seeing it when he awoke.

He lingered even as he knew he should leave, resting his hand lightly against Legolas’ forehead. He draped the other Elf’s cloak over him like a blanket, bending to lightly press his lips again a cheek lax in sleep. ‘I will see you soon,’ he whispered the promise, before turning resolutely and heading out of the doorway.

Legolas stirred.

‘Haldir?’ he mumbled sleepily, raising his head and looking around. He blinked, pushing himself up on his elbows, looking around. Everything had changed. Returned to how it had been the first moment he had set foot on the talan. The curtains that had danced in the breeze and the bedding they had rumpled with their enthusiastic love-making – it was all gone. ‘H-Haldir?’

He could no longer hear the voices that had been raised in song, nor the tinkle of running water; with the stilling of the fountains and waterfalls it seemed even the streams had been silenced.

He was fully dressed with nothing out of place except for his cloak, which had been draped over him like a blanket.

And his dagger which was embedded point down into the timber of the bed base. It quivered with his movement; its sharp tip pierced through a folded square of parchment. He reached out and carefully tugged the blade free of the wood, picking up the parchment in a trembling hand. It must be a letter, he reasoned, noting his name carefully scribed on the uppermost fold of paper. He opened it.

The short letter was written in by a familiar hand. It read:

‘My love,  
I await your ship in Valinor.  
Don’t forget to bring the damn Dwarf.  
Tell him Lady Galadriel looks forward to seeing him again.  
And she told me to write that.  
You did not finish the story of Estel as a child. I wish to know how it ends!  
May the Valar guide you safely home to me  
I love you,  
Haldir’

Not ‘I will wait’, but ‘I await’. Legolas smiled at what had been written. Haldir may have a wonderful hand for penmanship, but his wording often left a lot to be desired. Legolas also now understood – as much as anyone could – what had just happened. It hadn’t just been an overactive imagination as he feared, but something incredibly powerful beyond them both. Haldir *had* been there – and everything had been just as he remembered. It had to have been; otherwise he wouldn’t – nay, *couldn’t* – have the letter in his hand right now, as real as the dagger in his other.

‘I love you too, Haldir,’ he whispered, clutching the letter to his chest as he rose to his feet. He slid the dagger back into its sheath, hurrying from the talan and across the bridge that lead to the next flet from which a still intact rope ladder dangled.

He couldn’t wait to tell Gimli of the message for him from the Lady Galadriel.


End file.
